


Ignorance May Be Dangerous, But Education Can Be Deadly

by athena_crikey



Category: Gintama
Genre: Gen, day in the life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 09:22:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18443654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athena_crikey/pseuds/athena_crikey
Summary: The Yorozuya is hired to destroy an Amanto vessel while disguised as a Tokugawa noble and his party. Forward the Young Nobleman of Fury.Partial sequel toKidnap Victims Always Leave Behind an Item with Sentimental Associations





	Ignorance May Be Dangerous, But Education Can Be Deadly

**Author's Note:**

> Linguistic note: Unlike English where we generally make our language more formal by taking out contractions and adding in a few extra words, Japanese has 2 extra sets of verbs, one for speaking up to those of higher status and one for debasing yourself. This means you have to learn 3 words for most verbs, and as such many native Japanese can't speak (fluently) in "formal" language. This, together with an extra sort of formal wording, is collectively called Keigo. If people are required for their job to speak Keigo (say customer service types) they are sent by their companies to classes to learn it.

Gintoki knows it’s going to be a bad day when he hears Kagura on the phone at 8am. Teaching Kagura about the social realities of their culture has been a lot like writing letters to indirect family members: you mean to do it but for some reason or another it keeps getting put off, until you find yourself unaccountably cut out of Great-Uncle Satoshi’s will. Still, he thinks it will take him awhile to recover from the shock of hearing the monster-in-child’s-guise cheerfully informing the telephone, “Well, I don’t know if we can come. Gin-san always says the Shogun’s a smelly idiot who doesn’t know his head from his ass. Besides, Lady’s Four is on at 3:00 and the Shogunate buildings are all the way across town.” Possibly this is because being cut out of Great-Uncle Satoshi’s will pales in comparison to being beheaded for treason.

Gintoki slams straight through the shoji door of his bedroom without bothering to open it, and sprints across the tiny apartment to the telephone in three heartbeats flat. He picks up the phone in one hand and Kagura in the other, and physically separates the two of them lest her mere proximity to the device further dooms him.

“Ahahaha, what are you doing, foolish child?” he blabbers into the mouthpiece, “We don’t talk about poor Gin-san-the-neighbour-we-hardly-ever-see to strangers!” 

She opens her mouth to dig him deeper into his grave, and he tosses her across the room. Doesn’t bother to watch as she hits the ground rolling.

“Hello, this is Sakata Gi – Sakata. I apologize for my niece, she’s touched in the head. Repeatedly dropped on the head as an infant, tragic. Yes. Pardon? Two o’clock? Yes. I understand. Thank you.” He hangs up the phone, and sinks limply to the floor just as Kagura gives a deafening battle cry and launches herself at him in a flying tackle from across the room. She streaks over his head and hits the wall behind the desk with a bang a cannon would be proud to produce.

“Gin-san, you bastard,” she mutters, accompanied by a crinkling sound as she tries to swim her way out of the sea of newspapers lurking back there. Sadaharu yawns loudly, apparently woken by the commotion.

“Oi, take some responsibility. If I have my head chopped off, who’ll give you money to buy sukonbu?”

“You don’t give me money now; I get it from the laundry room counter.”

“And where do you think that money comes from? _From Gin-san’s pockets._ ” Gintoki sighs and leans his head back against the desk with a dull thunk. It’s too early for brushes with death. “I’m going back to bed. When Shinpachi comes in, tell him we’re going to see the Shogun at 2, so he’d better get all his screaming out of his system beforehand.”

***

It is, in fact, not the Shogun who they see but one of his many retainers. Seated in a room whose furnishings cost more than Otose’s entire building while their legs slowly start to burn from the seiza, they listen to the retainer drone on in a voice even duller than Gintoki’s after a week of sugar deprivation. Fortunately, he’s already gathered the jist of what the man’s asking of them. The rest is just garnish to try to disguise it.

On his right Kagura, who has been sworn to silence by threat of television destruction and sukonbu withholding, looks entirely flummoxed. But to the left Shinpachi’s eyes are wide with more-than-usually-vivid horror; Gintoki likes this job less and less.

Eventually the bureaucrat runs out of air, and Gintoki takes the opportunity to wedge his own comment into the gap. “What I can’t help but wondering is why the shogunate doesn’t have its own people to send on an intergalactic sabotage mission. Sounds pretty dumb.”

Shinpachi hisses at him, low and appalled; Gintoki ignores him, and gives the man across the table a flat look.

“It isn’t an intergalactic mission,” corrects the bureaucrat fussily, “The Herlick ship is already in orbit above the Earth, all that’s required is for you to go aboard in the place of the official envoy and ensure it does not make a return voyage. It’s an automated ship, there is no one on board and as such there will be no loss of life. All contact will be made by video screen. As for not using our own staff: we must be able to disclaim all association with the… operatives.”

“And that sounds pretty suicidal.”

“Our intelligence is ample. So is our pay.”

Which, apart from the fact that the shogunate could have their heads chopped off for not coming, is the real reason they’re here. The rice and strawberry milk are getting low, and superfluities like meat and vegetables haven’t been on the table for nearly a week. And Catherine has started trying to trip them down the stairs again.

“How do you feel about an advance?” asks Gintoki.

***

They make their way back to the apartment with very little cash in their pockets but carrying dozen pounds of silk kimonos with padded jackets, beautiful lacquered boxes with intricately carved ivory netsuke, new wooden sandals with bright straps, expensive scented oil and perfume, silk purses and golden fans with colourful scenes depicted on their surfaces. They could, Gintoki reflects, sell them for a fortune, but then they’d have to deal with the Shinsengumi constantly trying to blow them up and Gintoki’s seen the premature crows feet that’s causing for Zura. He doesn’t need that kind of stress in his life. Waiting for JUMP to come out each week is more than enough tension.

Back at the apartment, they lay out the loot on the table. Shinpachi’s practically weeping at the expense of the silk, while Kagura’s stacking and unstacking the inro in apparent fascination. Gintoki notices that they have dress for one official Tokugawa envoy and four retainers of varying size, assuming one of the retainers is approximately the size of a sumo wrestler. 

“There aren’t any ladies’ kimono there,” points out Kagura, haphazardly re-stacking an inro with a delicate a pine tree pattern worth more than the entire building. “That’s sexist. I should be the envoy. You, trade more! You, stop fighting, the neighbours keep complaining! You, bring me more sukonbu!” She stops gesturing and looks over at the two men. “Clearly it should be me! Gin-san can’t be the envoy, he has no personality. And Shinpachi can’t be, he has no backbone.”

“I do so!” Shinpachi stands up abruptly; the delicate silk heko obi catches on the edge of the table and rips. “WAAAAAAAUGH!” He hurriedly catches it up and tries to push the two sides together. “HOW CAN THIS BE?”

Gintoki edges away; Shinpachi catches sight of him and turns on him. “Oi! Don’t think you can disassociate yourself with this by leaving!”

“We must all take out our own garbage, Shinpachi-kun,” replies Gintoki blandly. Kagura, far less subtle, bounces over to look.

“Shinpachiiii, how’re you gonna repay that? You’re going to have to sell yourself to a brothel. Don’t worry, I’ll still visit you. And when you’re dying tragically at eighteen I’ll bring you your favourite childhood food and you’ll cry like a little baby on your deathbed.”

“I AM NOT GOING TO BECOME A PROSTITUTE. Ane-ue can sew it up, I’m sure it will be fine!”

“Shinpachi, you’re so naïve. Just like a little baby.”

“I AM NOT A BABY. And why is there even a heko obi in here anyway, this is a formal meeting!”

“Maybe they think you look like a little kid. You kind of do, Shinpachi. A little pop-eyed baby.”

“STOP WITH THE BABY!”

Gintoki, now cleaning out his ear with a pinkie, sighs. “Maa maa. Enough quarrelling. We have what we need here. All we need to do is think of a plan and get going.”

“But who’s going to be the envoy? You, Gin-san?”

“I want to be the envoy,” protests Kagura, sulking. 

“Don’t be stupid. We’ll send Zura.”

“NOT AGAIN.”

***

“So we want you to go as envoy,” finishes Shinpachi, standing behind the opposite couch and displaying the clothes they have been leant.

“No,” says Zura. A split-second later, Gintoki slams his head into the table.

“Listen to peoples’ propositions before you refuse them! Where did you learn your manners, Zura?”

Zura shoves his hand away and sits up, forehead reddening. “It’s not Zura, it’s Katsura. And I did listen. I am now refusing. This is a concept commonly known as cause and effect.”

“Your ingratitude is shameful. Is this any way to return my hospitality?”

“Is hot water something you call hospitality?” returns Zura, indicating his steaming mug.

“Were you raised in a barn, you freak? It’s impolite to call attention to your host’s poor financial situation. Don’t mock others for the evil fate they face due to circumstances outside their control, Zura.”

“It’s not Zura, it’s Katsura. And I don’t see how laziness is outside your control.”

“It’s not laziness, it’s my natural perm! You wouldn’t understand, you boiled-egg-eyed –”

“Yes, yes,” interrupts Shinpachi soothingly from behind. “Katsura-san doesn’t want to help. That’s okay, Gin-san, you can be the envoy.”

Gintoki sits ominously still without turning. 

“You can be the envoy, right, Gin-san?”

“Maybe Gin-chan’s an internationally wanted terrorist!”says Kagura, eyes shining. “Like in Space Exile Packers, when it turns out Dashwood has a criminal record and can’t go to space to see Elisha, and she dies all alone in the magma flows of the Alpha Centuri volcano!”

“IN WHAT WAY IS IT LIKE THAT?” demands Shinpachi. “And anyway, if we’re talking about internationally wanted terrorists, there’s already one sitting here.”

“Maybe Gin-chan gets space-sick!”

“Aa, that’s right, puking the whole time, you’ll need boats to get through the vomit,” says Gintoki, laughing uncomfortably.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Zura takes a sip of his water, eyes closed and posture serene. “He can’t use Keigo.”

The other two pause; Gintoki explodes upwards from the couch. “Zura, you traitor! How could you betray your childhood friend like this?! I take back everything I ever leant you. That sword I leant you at Shimonoseki, and the Butterfly Wasps CD, aa, and the netsuke shaped like a rabbit. Return it! Now!” He plants his foot on the table and points at it.

“You gave that netsuke to me,” hisses Zura, glaring.

“I did not! I distinctly told you you could _borrow_ it so you didn’t go spilling your stupid purse all over the road, not like you had anything in it other than a condom you’ve probably been carrying around for the past decade in hopes of getting lucky – give it up already, it’s never going to happen. That thing’s already long past antique status.”

“I do not carry around a condom, you uncouth disgusting bastard.”

“So you’re saying you’re okay with –”

“ENOUGH!” Shinpachi leans over to smack them both upside the head. “No one cares about the stupid netsuke.”

“Why does it matter that Gin-chan can’t speak politely?” asks Kagura, sitting down beside Gintoki with the approximate grace of a full-grown water buffalo. “He’s the envoy, he can be rude if he wants.”

Gintoki jams his knuckles down into the top of her head. “I am not rude.”

“Just terribly uncouth,” says Katsura quietly, sipping at his water. 

“Listen you bastard, don’t make me come over there. Gin-san’s not having a good day. You wouldn’t be able to crawl out of here. The only reason I’m holding back is because it isn’t big garbage day for another three weeks.”

“The envoy,” explains Shinpachi, raising his voice to quash the bickering, “is just Japan’s representative to much higher powers – like city mayors to the Shogunate, Kagura-chan. We’re not that important. They would never send someone uncultured who might offend everyone.”

“Are you insinuating I am uncultured? Maybe you’d like to be the envoy, Shinpachi-kun.”

“Ahaha, no, I meant… They would never send someone without excellent language skills. And Katsura-san is very well-spoken.”

“Be warned, Kagura-chan, that’s what happens when you have too many tutors as a child,” says Gintoki. “They cram you so full of useless crap that you can’t remember important ideals like _friendship_ and _loyalty_ to your _poor disadvantaged comrades_. An education is a dangerous thing.”

“If anyone tries to give me any, I’ll punch them in the face!” declares Kagura. 

“DON’T SAY SUCH STUPID THINGS.” Shinpachi rams the back of her head against the couch. He legs go of her, and steps around. “Gin-san, please. We need to do this job. Even with the advance we can only pay one of the backlogged rents _or_ buy groceries for the week.”

Gintoki huffs, and crosses his arms. “Fine. You want me to beg the stubborn bastard?” He turns to face Katsura and says blandly, “Zura, help us out and I won’t beat the crap out of you.”

“HOW WAS THAT BEGGING?”

“Fine, fine. Zura, help us out, and I won’t say anything about your stupid lifestyle for a week.”

“ _Gin-san_ ,” wails Shinpachi.

Gintoki sighs and waves a vague hand at him. “Alright. Zura, help us out and I’ll let you keep the rabbit netsuke.”

“It’s not Zura, it’s Katsura.” He puts down his mug and slips his hands into his sleeves. “You said we would be destroying an Amanto ship?” he asks Shinpachi.

“That’s right.”

He considers for a moment, and then nods. “Very well. I’ll do it.”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST AGREE IN THE FIRST PLACE?”

***

Zura leads the way through the terminal, Gintoki and Shinpachi following in their muted clothes. The crowds instinctively part before him like a school of fish before a shark.

The problem with Zura, Gintoki knows, is that he really does look credible. Dressed as the Tokugawa envoy in a ridiculously expensive padded-silk jacket and gold-patterned hakama with creases so sharp they could cut and his hair pulled into a high pony-tail, he really does look like a nobleman. 

This is a problem because for some reason people listen to men who look credible without running their words past the internal logic filters they apply to everyone else, and therefore don’t realise that Zura is in fact a complete idiot. This is one of the reasons Zura is the leader of the _Jyouishishi_. The other is that they’re all idiots, too.

At the gate to the small shuttle chartered to take them to the waiting orbiting vessel, Gintoki presents the passes they were given by the Shogun’s retainer, and they enter and board. Security for a private vessel travelling to another private vessel is purely nominal in the first place, and nearly non-existent when travelling under Shogunate papers owing to the high risk of ending up with your head on a plank. This is why no one inspects the trunk or bags which Shinpachi and Gintoki are carrying.

***

They are greeted at the airlock to the Herlick ship by a pair of boxy robots, the kind that look like computers which have been mounted on stork legs. Each has a camera in its head and a video screen in its torso; one screen is dark but the other’s shows a grainy image of a parrot-like Amanto sitting behind a desk. Zura gives a very calculated bow while Gintoki and Shinpachi grovel; the robots return the courtesy. The figure in the screen clears its throat with a short squawking noise.

“ _Wrawk_ – Welcome, Nakatani-dono. We are pleased to welcome you to our vessel. The voyage will begin in approximately half an hour. If you will allow, we can begin our discussions by video link.”

“I would be honoured,” murmurs Zura in a low voice. The robots bow again. The one with the dark screen indicates the direction while the other takes the lead. “Take them to the cargo hold,” Zura orders the stationary one, indicating the entourage with a flick of his eyes. 

“Yes, honourable envoy,” replies the robot. Zura turns and follows the other, disappearing down the long hallway towards the ship’s bow. “This way,” it says, straightening. Gintoki glances at Shinpachi, and together they pick up the trunk. 

The robot leads them down a long hall to a room the size of a dojo, although with a ceiling several stories tall. At one end there’s a large pair of doors. It is mostly empty apart from a few large metal containers anchored to the floor in case of gravity loss. They put the trunk down in a corner as directed, and shoulder their lighter bags.

“Is there somewhere we can get a drink?” asks Gintoki, massaging his hands. 

“I will take you to the envoy’s quarters.” It shepherds them towards the door.

“Great. Hey, do you have strawberry milk?”

“We do not favour bovine lactation aboard this vessel.”

“Don’t say that like it’s the poisonous spider of drinks. It’s the bald eagle, aa, or the lion.”

“What does that even mean, Gin-san?”

As their voices fade in the distance, something thumps softly inside the trunk behind them.

***

Gintoki is just sipping a cup of tea (the boring ubiquitous golden retriever of drinks) when the ship rocks to a sound like far-off thunder. A second later the lights shift to a dimmer setting, and a soft alarm starts beeping.

“Unexpected depressurization in cargo bay 1, unexpected depressurization in cargo bay 1,” intones an emotionless voice over the intercom. 

Another explosion goes off before he has time to wipe the tea off his face; this one is louder. 

“Should we go, Gin-san?” Shinpachi is already standing by the door, pulling his shinai from his bag.

“Aa. No telling how long it’ll be before Zura puts his foot in his mouth.” Gintoki returns his bokutou to his obi and steps out into the hallway.

Smoke is thick here, although it’s being pulled up into the air vents all along the corridor. The yellow emergency lights make the hall gleam demonically like some sort of eldritch dawn. Various messages are coming in over the intercom system; Gintoki ignores them and heads towards the bow of the ship where the best quarters are positioned far from the noisy engines.

Behind him there’s a heavy thud, and then the choked sound of someone being strangled. Gintoki turns and sees Shinpachi rolling around on the ground with a smaller figure.

“Oi, Kagura. Use your eyes,” he says, without moving.

The struggling stops. Kagura gets to her feet, glaring at Shinpachi. “It’s your fault for looking like one of those stupid robots. I’ve already had to twist the heads off two to stop them seeing me!” she tells Shinpachi, shaking her finger at him.

“How is that my fault?!”

“You’re skinny like a little chicken robot! I could’a twisted your head off no problem!”

“HOW IS THAT MY FAULT?”

Gintoki sighs. “Do you have any more bombs?” he asks her, restraining Shinpachi. Kagura nods and pulls out a grapefruit-sized sphere.

“Uh huh. Just one. You’re lucky, I saw a great place to practice pitching, but then a stupid robot came along so I had to go strangle it instead. Or was it Shinpachi?” 

Gintoki ignores the ensuing bickering and takes the time bomb from her, tucks it in his sleeve with a shiver. “It’s almost like I’m starting to turn into that idiot,” he mutters.

No one else pays attention. Gintoki sighs again, and heads on down the hall.

***

There’s a robot waiting outside the main suite, and it tries to block his entrance.

“We are under emergency protocols, return to your quarters,” it tells him, standing in front of the doors.

“I need to see the envoy.”

“We are under emergency protocols, return to your quarters.”

“The ship’s under attack!”

“We are under emergency protocols, return to your quarters.”

“I’m not having a good day. I’m warning you. You should let me in there.”

“We are under emergency protocols, return –”

There’s a surprisingly loud thud as the two halves of the robot hit the floor. Gintoki returns his bokutou to its place at his hip. “I told you. Gin-san isn’t having a good day.”

He presses the button, and the door slides open.

The main guest suite has been decorated to expensive Japanese taste: the floor is tatami and the walls rice-paper, there is a wooden alcove with a vase and a master calligrapher’s character: strength. In the centre, Zura is sitting in seiza, speaking to the screen in the robot’s stomach.

“…respectfully suggest we should halt the mission,” he is saying, in his usual gloomy tone. He turns slightly at the door’s opening, and Gintoki catches a flash of his eye before he looks back. 

“There are explosions all over the ship; something’s gone wrong in the cargo bay and the ship is depressurizing,” Gintoki says quietly, stepping in. 

“The ship is equipped with the foremost safety systems, there is no danger,” replies the parrot at the other end of the line.

“There’s fire in the hallways and things blowing up everywhere,” returns Gintoki blandly, secure in the knowledge that he’s too far away for the camera to pick up accurately. 

“I request that you return this humble person to Edo,” says Zura, standing and screening the camera. Gintoki takes advantage of this to arm the bomb and lob it carefully high over Zura’s head and beyond the robot. It rolls to a stop against the wall, several metres away from Zura. 

“There is no danger. Nakatani-san, you will continue your mission.”

Zura takes a step backwards, and the robot reaches out to grab his wrist. Gintoki reaches for his bokutou, but there’s no need. Zura draws his ceremonial blade with his free hand, and slices the appendage off with one clean strike. Gintoki doesn’t have to see him to know his eyes are flashing; the young noble of fury has descended in earnest. 

He has to admit, Zura can put on a good show. 

“This is _outrageous_ ,” declares Zura, raising his head. “How dare you force the Shogun’s envoy to place himself in danger on your defective ship?” 

“There _is no danger_ ,” squawks the parrot.

Zura takes a step forward in simulated rage. Gintoki opens his mouth to tell the idiot he’s supposed to be moving backwards, dammit, backwards. This, right here, is why Zura’s stupid credibility is a problem. Because in situations like this you almost don’t notice he is doing _exactly the wrong thing._

Immediately behind the robot, the bomb explodes.

For a moment there is nothing but thick choking smoke and a sound like a garbage compactor in action ringing in his ears. Then Gintoki picks himself up and strides forward into the greyness, bent low with his arms out and his stinging eyes narrowed. 

He trips over something a few yards in, staggers to regain his balance, and bends down to grab it. “Zura? Zura?! Oi!”

Overhead, the air filters open up and suck in the smoke. As the air clears, it reveals Zura lying on the ground on his back. He has his jacket pulled up completely over his head, like a man trying to hide his identity from reports. 

He has, Gintoki sees, sometime between the point at which they parted company and now, stuck a sticky note over the Tokugawa crest on the back of the jacket. There is now a picture of the stupid duck’s giant head stamped in a circle on Zura’s back.

Gintoki freezes, staring down at him. 

“Zura. What the fuck are you doing?”

“It’s not Zura, it’s Katsura,” replies Zura, voice muffled. He slowly emerges from his jacket, turtle-like. “And I am protecting myself from the blast,” he says, singed hair sticking up in all directions making him look like the victim of a grade-school science experiment.

Gintoki stares at him momentarily. Then he stands, face wiped blank, and kicks Zura in the head on his way out. “Don’t bother; you don’t have any brain cells left anyway.”

***

“Shinpachi?” asks Kagura, freezing suddenly in the middle of trying to pin Shinpachi down to prove she could indeed twist his head off as her forehead wrinkles thoughtfully. Off to one side, a robot is twitching in its death throes; further down the hall smoke continues to billow from a blackened hole in the wall.

“What?!” Shinpachi pauses, fingers jammed up her nose.

“I just thought. Now that we’ve destroyed the ship, how’re we gonna get back to Earth?”

There’s a momentary pause. And then,

“Eh? EEEH? NO WAY.”

END


End file.
